


night will close us down

by bergamots



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, There's a Bet, riza pretends she's not, roy is frustrated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-17 15:39:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9331931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bergamots/pseuds/bergamots
Summary: He finds that he rather enjoys Riza like this – sitting in his chair, watching him like a lion watches its prey before pouncing it. The shift in power, in control, is thrilling him more than it should.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> alternatively titled: Flame Alchemist Roy Mustang really should know better than to play with fire.
> 
> this started with a prompt, but then i got rid of the prompt because it didn’t suit the tone of the fic. at least it got me writing! tbh this is just a hella indulgent fic that has been lurking around my head for two days and didn’t leave. 
> 
> i'm still a bit unsure about the ending. i’m happy to write more if people want. let me know what you think!
> 
> title taken from bic runga’s ‘gravity’.

“Lieutenant, stop.”

Riza pauses in her writing, and looks over to Roy, where he is sprawled out on the couch inelegantly, Black Hayate resting on his chest, panting happily and tail thumping a tattoo onto his leg. “You’ve been at that letter for hours,” he continues, his fingers lost in Hayate’s plush fur, scratching occasionally. “The world will not stop spinning if you finish it tomorrow instead of tonight.”

Riza sits back in the chair, and puts down the fountain pen, careful not to smudge the still-drying ink. “Of course not, sir. But you don’t need to stay here and wait for me.”

“Nonsense,” he says. “It’s dangerous at night to walk home alone – and I have a car. Having to file a missing person’s report would be more trouble than it’s worth.”

“I think you mean that you wouldn’t know what to do if the report hit you in the face – not to mention you would never finish it without me reminding you.”

“You wound me, Lieutenant,” he sighs, dropping a soft kiss on Hayate’s muzzle. The dog is happily dozing, tail finally still and there is a peaceful silence in the office that Roy is not used to.

“Whether I do or not is not the point, sir,” she remarks. “The point is you need to take more responsibility with your work. It does not behove you to slack off your work – not when we have our annual training camp with Lieutenant General Armstrong coming up: she does not indulge laziness like I have been forced to.”

Roy snorts. “You have not been _forced_ to, Lieutenant.”

“I beg to differ.” Her response is blunt and he looks up at her – she’s frowning at him and her left hand is drumming a beat on his desk. The Lieutenant is annoyed, and though he does _know_ better than to prod, he desperately wants to needle her.

Roy swallows, and tries his best to keep his face neutral. “What have I done to receive such insubordination? This is most unlike you.”

Her stare has become steely, and inwardly Roy celebrates. He is sick and tired of the strained formality between them – particularly when it is just them, alone. He might’ve had a bullshit reason to ask her to stay behind, but then, she didn’t have to agree. She’s just as guilty as he is in this regard, and he knows that she too, is tired of the formality – formality that has increased over the weeks as the conjoint training exercises approach.

Even when she wasn’t here, Major Armstrong could be a real pain in the arse.

“I just wanted you to have a quiet evening-”

“Did you consider what I wanted in all of this?” she asks. “Of course not. You just went ahead and just expe-”

“Has it really been that awful? Honestly?”

Her lips thin.

“I just…” Roy sighs, sitting up and shifting Hayate down next to him carefully. “It has been a shit week and we’ve both been at our wits’ end ensuring that General Armstrong’s every request has been accommodated for. Forgive me for wanting to spend a bit of downtime with you.”

 There’s silence and Roy half expects her to dismiss herself and go home. But she doesn’t. Riza simply sits there, watching him and Roy suddenly realises that she’s not angry anymore, nor annoyed. She’s regarding him carefully, and Roy isn’t quite sure what he should do. He doesn’t want to ruin what favour he has suddenly earned back but her stare is almost unnerving.

“Is the door locked?” she finally asks. Roy nods, albeit a bit hesitantly. “Good,” she continues, fingers moving to her jacket and unbuttoning it swiftly and shrugs it off, placing on the side of his desk. This is unusual behaviour for the Lieutenant certainly, but it’s not like –

Riza’s hands move to her head, and then she unclasps the clip holding up her hair.

It is not an altogether scandalous act on its own – after all, she only started wearing it up constantly a few months ago. Before, it had hung loosely, and Roy doesn’t like to think about how many times he had to stop himself from reaching out to touch it. He has known her for a long time, but this is new and foreign concept – Riza with long hair and Riza maybe letting him near this new long hair, maybe even _touching_ this new long hair – and this makes him both nervous and agitated. A line is being crossed here – a line that didn’t exist until just now, but Roy can’t seem to care that much; not certainly when there is waterfalls of golden curls suddenly right _there_ , contrasting sharply against the black leather of his chair.

It has developed some kinks, he notices as Riza runs her hand through it, her hand catching on a few tangles along the way. It’s not quite straight anymore – it curls more, softening her whole appearance. He rarely sees the soft side of Riza anymore. He wishes he could.

She cocks her head to the side and regards him carefully. “Shall we play a game?” she asks, an indulgent smile pulling at the edges of her mouth.

“What kind of game?” he shoots back, sitting up straighter on the couch. Riza’s smile deepens.

“A game of…restraint,” she replies, clearly amused at his reaction.

“Rules?” He tries to keep his voice steady.

“If you can keep yourself in check, then you win.” Her voice is dripping with innuendo and Roy shifts where he’s sitting; adjusting as best he can without her noticing. He licks his lips and her resulting smile practically glows.

He finds that he rather enjoys Riza like this – sitting in his chair, watching him like a lion watches its prey before pouncing it. The shift in power, in control, is thrilling him more than it should.

He can’t help but smirk at how she leans back in his chair – she knows exactly what she’s doing and part of him knows they should take their business elsewhere. The other part doesn’t care.

Riza beckons him leisurely.

He approaches his desk slowly, watching her as intently as she watches him. He wants to say she is smirking – he certainly is, but her expression is more confident than smug, more self-assured than bravado.

He likes it a lot. It’s a good look on her – scratch that – a _fantastic_ look, hair down and jacket off, far more casual than she would ever allow normally. She sacrifices a lot for him, he thinks, swallowing and standing in front of his desk in a perfectly executed parade rest.

“Lieutenant?” he asks a little hoarsely, schooling his features to remain as impassive as possible, watching as her smile curls.

“Colonel,” she replies, pushing off his seat and standing before shifting some of his papers to the side. There’s nothing between him and her on the desk.

Riza climbs onto the desk with care, smiling benevolently and not dropping her gaze. He thought she was hot before with tousled hair and bedroom eyes but she is on his desk she is on his desk-

The bar has been raised for the Amazing And Incredibly Sexy Things Riza Hawkeye Has Done For Roy Mustang – Riza Hawkeye forgoing any respect for government property and walking on his desk is all kinds of hot, and then she is just sitting mere inches from him _on his desk-_

“You fight dirty, Lieutenant,” he manages, feeling a flush creep up his neck.

She hums thoughtfully at this, and shakes her head. “No, that isn’t fighting dirty, Colonel. _This is_.”

Her arms cross over each other in a familiar motion and then Riza Hawkeye has no top on and Roy is certain his brain isn’t functioning anymore. Riza Hawkeye hasn’t got her top on and he can see her collarbones. Riza Hawkeye hasn’t got her top on and her skin is just screaming to be marked. Riza Hawkeye hasn’t got her top on and-

“Colonel?” she asks sweetly. There is no right response to her question. No matter what he says it will not be right and the complete lack of control in this situation is both thrilling and terrifying in its enormity.

Roy Mustang is quite sure he has never been this turned on before in his life – and he knows that Riza knows it.

She tugs on the edge of his shirt, which is covered in dog fur, and pulls him closer. She tuts at him in mock concern.

“Nobody will take you seriously if you’re covered in animal fur, Colonel,” she observes, running her hands over his chest before she moves to his buttons, quickly and methodically undoing each one. He shrugs out of the shirt easily, watching her carefully. She’s breathing deeper now, a deep pink staining her cheeks. He would wager she’s just as turned on as him.

Her fingers are blessedly cool on his chest – every part of him feels warm and it takes a lot of will to remain standing there while she lightly scores him with her nails.

“I wonder how long you can hold out,” she teases, one hand drifting down to his abdomen, curling around his hip.

“Easy for you to say,” he mutters, nearly swearing as she cups him through his pants – her touch is so so so _so_ light and awful and he cannot stop the shiver that engulfs his body. She smirks properly now, eyes big and brown and he desperately wants to stop her in her tracks.

Roy doesn’t think she’d mind if he did – but that’s not why she’s doing it. It’s been a while since they played games like these – before, it was too dangerous and there were too many eyes, too many ears around them to be anything other than _Colonel_ and _Lieutenant_. But now he can rest a little easier – having your commanding officer _heartily_ in favour of you marrying his granddaughter means he will turn a blind eye to any rumours of unbecoming behaviour.

Her hand slides back up to his hip and she traces the muscles that lead into his hipbones, before slowly moving back up to his shoulders. Her fingers leave fire in her wake, and every nerve that she brushes over is hypersensitive. He swallows as she traces the edge of his jaw, thumb brushing over his cheek and fingers splaying out on his neck.

“Number?” she breathes and it takes him a few moments before he realises what she’s asking.

“Seven,” he responds, closing his eyes as her other hand leaves his hip and curls around his jaw, thumbs carefully smoothing over his cheekbones. She cradles his head in her hands for a moment before shifting on the desk, moving closer to him.

“Should I stop?” she asks. He shakes his head, breathing deeply. “That would defeat the purpose of the game, wouldn’t it?”

She laughs a little at this, snaking her arms around his neck and curling her hands into his hair. “I suppose so. If I can get as far as-”

He doesn’t let her finish, instead kissing her fiercely, and his hands gripping tightly at her hips. She shrieks a little in surprise, but swiftly wraps her legs around his hips, grinding into him.

“You cheated,” she pants as he lets go of her lower lip, pressing quick kisses down her throat.

“Course I did,” he replies, biting at her earlobe and grinning in satisfaction at her audible groan. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

She giggles, trying to swat away his hands away from her sides as he brushes over her ribcage. “You’re incorrigible,” she murmurs, hands smoothing over his shoulder blades as he feathers kisses across her sternum.

“You love me for it,” he quips back, a hand drifting over the skin between her navel and pants.

“I suppose so,” she sighs as he holds her jaw with his other hand, thumb rubbing at her swollen lower lip.

“Number?” he asks.

“Five,” she teases.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello naughty children it’s smut time. I don’t know where this came from but it was begging to be written and who am I to deny my fav characters something nice????? (Considering I killed Riza in ‘a strange fate’ and am currently being a Bitch to her and Roy in another fic I guess this is my way of apologizing lmao).
> 
> Oh who am I kidding this is indulgent as fuck and I hope you enjoy the sordid adventure that’s about to begin. Shout out to the ‘harder colonel’ people. You know who you are! Let this be the newest addition to an idea that has spiralled out of control.
> 
> I have also just decided there’s going to be a part 3 because I am made of sin apparently. This is the first fic I’ve published that is this raunchy, so comments are greatly appreciated!
> 
> Warning: sexual situations. If you’re not of age where you’re reading this, please stop and think about what you’re doing. Thank you!

Riza stretches out languorously on Roy’s bed, sighing in pleasure as her joints crackle and pop – it had been a long day at work, in spite of the extra… _activities_ that had alleviated some of the stress she had been feeling – but begrudgingly, she admitted to herself privately that the man might have a point – the last few weeks of work had been taking its toll even on her. Every request that came through from Briggs Fortress was more elaborate and complicated than the last – and Lieutenant General Grumman hardly seemed to care.

In fact, Riza would even go as far to say that the Lieutenant General didn’t care – instead relegating all of the planning back on her and Roy. Whatever his reasoning was, it was inane and Riza was planning on having words with him – one of the benefits of not only being the aide to his favourite colonel was the fact that she was his granddaughter – and it was in situations like this that she was glad she could have some form of leverage over him. Her grandfather might be in charge of Eastern City Command, but he was still an old man – and old people could sometimes make piss-poor decisions even at the best of times.

 _But now is not the time to be worrying about that,_ she thinks to herself, shifting on the bed slightly as she waits for Roy to come back from…whatever he’s doing in the bathroom. Riza thinks it’s sweet how flustered he gets whenever she decides to take control for once, but she’s not getting any younger here and part of her just wants to go and jump him in the bathroom.

The other part of her knows that is a bad decision and her muscles will hate her even more in the morning than they already will. Bar a few quickies in the back room of Madame Christmas’ saloon (and once in his car); Riza would estimate that it’s been months since they had last spent time like this. Far too long, in her opinion.

So she waits on the bed, fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the ends of her hair, legs shifting under the linen sheet. She’s frustrated more than anything, but she knows it was a bad decision to go as far as they did back in the office. She won’t deny that it’s fun to watch him squirm though – when he bothers to _behave_.

Perhaps she needs to teach him a lesson in what restraint means again.

His bedroom door opens and he walks back into the room, shrugging his jacket off and throwing it on a chair in the corner that at this point is more laundry than furniture. He pauses only when he notices her on the bed, clad only in her underwear and a growing smile on her face. A blush creeps across his cheeks.

“You look…good,” he manages, voice cracking a little as his fingers fumble slightly on the buttons of his shirt. Riza smiles indulgently.

“So do you,” she replies, sitting up properly on the bed and feeling the sheet pool around her legs. “Where’s Hayate?” she asks, stretching her arms above her head languidly and trying her best not to laugh as Roy’s gaze follows her movements, his mouth gaping open like a fish. “Hayate?” she presses, tilting her head to the side, feeling the satisfying _pop_ in her neck give way.

“On the couch – I think.” He stumbles over his words, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt before flinging it somewhere on the ground and making quick work of his pants. She waits for him patiently, fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on the mattress which dips under his weight and then his hands are curling around her jaw and his lips are warm and _right_ on hers. It is not a particularly passionate kiss, but rather one that is tempered by years of familiarity and affection - the type of kiss that cannot be rushed, cannot be hurriedly dealt with in a back room of a saloon with only minutes to spare.

Riza sighs and carefully winds her arms around his neck, stroking the nape of his neck and trying her best not to moan as he catches her bottom lip between his own and tugs on it playfully. Her nails scrape at his skin as he shifts on the bed, sitting on it properly and his hands leave her face, trailing fire down her skin as he traces her shoulders, brushes over her ribcage with the gentlest of touches.

He pulls away for a moment as if to inspect his handiwork, lips curling upwards as his eyes fall to her thoroughly-abused mouth. Gently, he kisses her again, murmuring against her lips in-between each soft kiss and his arms circle her waist properly, pulling her into his lap quickly, Riza nearly gasping into his mouth as she feels the hard length of his erection press into her _deliciously_.

 _It has been too long_ she thinks as he presses his body against hers more fully, revelling in how _hot_ he feels under her fingers. They travel a path from the nape of his neck to the space between his shoulders, fingernails occasionally scratching and digging in as she kisses him more firmly, pressure and warmth and _tongue_ all amalgamating together in a delicious frenzy that makes her shiver in anticipation.

His hands curl on her hips, fiddling with the lace edge of her underwear as he begins to trail teasing kisses down the length of her neck. She squirms under the soft touch, batting his hands away as best she can, pulling back from him as far as she can manage without leaving his lap. She can feel a blush growing on her face – the tips of her ears feel unnaturally warm and there’s heat in her cheeks that she can feel spreading across her whole body. Her hands rest loosely on his shoulders – thumbs rubbing over corded muscle and warm skin, and she shifts slightly on his lap so she can feel him better through the thin (and admittedly wet) fabric of her underwear. He grunts as she does so, his eyes big and dark as he watches her with almost a leer on his face. Riza snorts inelegantly.

“What?” he asks, tightening his arms around her and she responds by grinding into him, watching with pleasure as he grimaces. “You’re an evil woman,” he manages, and she laughs.

“Number?” she asks, tilting her head to the side as if to see him better.

“Part of me wants to say ten because you’re being awful-” she kisses him soundly here, rising a little off his lap and cradles his head in her hands, titling his head back as she does. She bites and nips at his lips and he can feel her grinning onto his mouth as he groans loudly.

“No, definitely a ten,” he murmurs against her lips, unable to keep the grin off his own face. Riza smiles indulgently, quickly kissing him once more before sliding off his lap, shimmying out of her underwear. Her fingers move behind her back to undo her bra and he watches unapologetically.

“Number?” she asks again, bra hanging from her fingertips. She is naked and gloriously so, and Roy shakes his head a little. _Too damn lucky._

“One,” he replies. “But I think I want to test you on that tonight, Miss-I’m-okay-with-five-in-the-office.”

“Oh?” She looks a little confused, and he can’t help but smile.

“A bet, actually,” he clarifies, beckoning his hand out to her. She accepts, and quickly settles herself back onto his lap, lifting her head to drop soft kisses on the underside of his jaw.

“What are the conditions?” she asks, linking her fingers with his.

He shifts a little, biting his lips as he suddenly feel how wet she is through the fabric of his underwear (none of it’s his own, _definitely_ not). “If I can make you come in under ten minutes,” he begins, watching as her eyes light up at the prospect of a challenge, “then I get to take you lingerie shopping.”

Riza laughs. “That’s hardly a win for you.”

He drops a kiss on her nose, his fingers tracing patterns on her bare hips. “Shush, it’s what I want – oh, and I get eternal bragging rights as well.”

“And there’s the part I was waiting for,” she comments, snaking her arms up around his neck. “What happens if I win?”

His grin deepens. “If you win, you get to have your wicked way with me-”

“I’m already going to have my wicked with you, _Colonel_ ,” she purrs, slim fingers raking through his hair. “You’re going to have to offer more than that if you want to play.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” he responds, kissing the inside of her wrist gently.

She sighs. “So I get to have my wicked way with you and…?”

“I won’t resist.”

Her fingers stop in his hair and she pulls back to look at him properly. _Ah,_ he thinks, watching as an almost alarming grin steals across her face. _That got her attention._

She watches him for a moment, obviously weighing her chances before nodding. “Fine, I accept these terms. You won’t be able to do it though,” she says confidentially, moving off his lap and scooting back onto the bed proper.

“I beg to differ,” he counters, pushing himself off the bed and walking to his drawers. He fishes around in the top most draw for a moment before returning with a small cylindrical object.

Riza eyes the object suspiciously. “What’s that?” she asks carefully, scooting further back into his pillows as he crawls up the bed.

“My secret weapon,” he responds casually, enjoying how her eyes narrow in response. “Why, are you worried now? Think you’re going to lose?”

“I didn’t agree to you getting extra ‘help’,” she snarks back, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You never said I couldn’t,” he counters. “You can forfeit if you want. I understand.”

Her lips purse, before shrugging and lying down on the pillows properly, her hair surrounding her like a halo of gold. “You _must_ be worried if you don’t trust in your own abilities anymore,” she teases, beckoning him to her. “Though I think size is in your favour…”

He laughs, dropping a soft kiss on her stomach that makes her breath hitch. “It’s not designed to be better than me in that sense, _dearest_ ,” he replies cheekily, putting the object down next to her on the bed and swiftly draws a uncovered breast into his mouth, biting her nipple lightly as he lets go. She _squeaks_ , and throws her head back into the pillows. “The girls were raving about it almost a month ago,” he continues, kissing and biting his way back up her chest, fingers stroking the soft skin of her hips. “They said you would like it.”

He reaches her mouth and kisses her firmly, trying his best not to roll his hips and she whines underneath him. “I don’t see it doing anything now,” she manages. “And you better start that timer. I’m not letting you cheat any more than you are already.”

Roy laughs, sitting up and takes his watch off his wrist and hands it to her. “Will that suffice?” he asks, carefully sliding his fingers through her folds. She is _beyond_ wet and almost burning with heat and her legs snap together suddenly, holding his wrist hostage as she glares at him.

“No cheating,” she growls. He holds up his free hand in apology, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Just…checking,” he teases. “You can let me go when you want to start counting,” he says after a moment in response to her stony silence.

Eventually the grip on his wrist relaxes and he picks up the object and examines it carefully. There’s a pause before there’s a sudden _whirring_ sound in the room, and Riza realises it’s coming from the device itself. It’s as if it’s moving by itself…and then Riza realises with growing dread that it _is._

“That is going nowhere near me Roy,” she says quickly, legs clamping shut. He watches her for a moment.

“Number?” Roy asks quietly.

She’s quiet for a moment, mulling over her choices.

“Eight,” she finally responds. He nods his head slowly.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, a warm hand resting on her knee. He’s still holding that… _thing_ and it’s a little comical to see his whole hand trembling – like it’s holding a grey worm that’s having a seizure. Riza bites her lip, before nodding.

“If you don’t like it,” he says softly, his free hand travelling up the bare expanse of her leg, “then that’s it. I promise it won’t hurt you.”

Riza lets go of the breath she didn’t know she was holding and carefully links her fingers with his, squeezing tightly for just a moment.

“You’ve got ten minutes,” she responds, an impish grin growing on her face. “Better start working, _Colonel_.”

His resulting smile practically _glows_ and immediately his fingers go back to her folds, stroking her _just_ so and while it does feel good, Riza knows it won’t be enough. She glances back to the watch in her hand, smiling as she sees the seconds tick down. “You’ll need to work a little harder than that, _sir!_ ” she sing-songs, and he shifts on the bed, muttering indistinctly under his breath. There’s a moment where his fingers leave her and she feel suddenly bereft, _less_ and then –

“ _Sonofabitch!_ ”

That _thing_ is right up against her clit, surprisingly cold but vibrating in an awful _good_ way and Riza can’t help the way her hips suddenly jerk under the new sensation. Roy just laughs under his breath, his free hand keeping her hips as steady as he can. It’s relentless and amazing and then Riza realises that she’s in trouble because she can already feel her orgasm building and she still has eight minutes to go.

“I _hate_ you,” she manages between gasps, trying to move away from the sensation as best she can, but Roy’s hand is firm and _fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck –_

“Should I stop?” he asks teasingly, changing the angle of the device slightly and though it takes a bit of the pressure off Riza immediately misses it and wants it back _right there_. Everything is hot and she can feel the slip of sweat building behind her in the crease of her knees and the small of her back and she has seven and a half minutes left and already she can feel the familiar twisting low in her gut.

“If you stop I will shoot you,” she growls, groaning unashamedly as the pressure in and on her clit increases with every passing second. The hand holding down her hips drifts away as she falls into a steady rhythm with the device, pushing and retreating and she doesn’t know which one feels better. Both are torture in their own way. Carefully, he strokes the skin underneath her breast and it’s _almost_ too much for her to handle. Every nerve in her body is electric and buzzing and his hand is making those ordinary sensations a hundred times worse. She bites her lip to stop another groan coming out and immediately she knows she has been caught. He shifts suddenly from between her legs to hovering above her, the sleek device shifting slightly in his hands as he adjusts it in his hand.

“Hey now,” he murmurs close to her ear, dropping kisses onto the edge of her jawline. “I don’t want you holding back. Or do I have to order you not to?” His voice takes on a sultry turn and it’s nearly enough to finish her – she wails as he bites her neck unforgivingly and shifts the device once more, closer to her opening and while it’s not quite as awful _good_ as before it brings with it a host of new sensations that are far more carnal, far _deeper_ than she wants to deal with. She grips the leather strap of his watch in her hand tightly – she’s overstimulated now, her clit feels like it is simultaneously on fire and being held to ice; Roy’s teeth are harsh and almost certainly leaving a mark and every nerve she is aware of is being slowly being exposed and flayed alive.

Roy kisses the newly-made mark on her neck affectionately, fingers gently stroking her face. “You can do it,” he coaxes, watching her with love unmistakably displayed on his face. “You’ve got two minutes, okay?” His voice is soft and sweet and Riza shudders beneath him, nearly crying with the effort it is taking to ignore the sensations that are assaulting her at every second.

“I can’t,” she moans, trembling and feeling her breath catch in her throat. “I can’t Roy; it’s too much I-”

He silences her with a harsh kiss, his teeth knocking into hers painfully. “You _will_ ,” he tells her firmly. “That’s an _order,_ Riza.”

She barely nods, arms quickly encircling his neck and nearly crushing him to her heaving chest. The watch falls from her grip as she struggles to focus on her breathing, it is too much and too soon she is going to –

“Twenty seconds, Riza,” he breathes, and suddenly the device has left and the sensation is gone and she’s just trembling on his bed, eyes glassy and _so on edge_ but she can feel the sensation fading away and she cries out for the sudden loss.

“Ten seconds,” he tells her, and she’s still, staring up at him in fear and awe and her words come undone in her throat.

“ _Please,_ ” she manages, feeling the sweat from her brow seep into her eyes and sting. He smiles at her benevolently – and then it is back, at the edges of her curls but it is not _enough._

“ _Harder, Colonel!_ ” she almost sobs and then the pressure is back properly and it’s pain and pleasure and good and awful and it’s the breath leaving her body and the stinging in her lungs as she struggles to breathe because everything is on fire and equally _not_.

Her release is euphoric and the whole while she faintly hears him whispering to her softly, stroking the skin of her waist, waiting patiently as her mind struggles to _think_.

She feels him pull away slightly before he cups her face with his hand. It’s warm and soft as he touches her lips carefully with his thumb. The device has gone but she still feels wave after wave of pleasure crash through her body and she kisses him sweetly, dragging him down onto her body, revelling in the security of his weight. She feels lighter than air and giddier than she has in a long time.

“Did I win?” she asks after a long while, curled up into him and still feeling the aftershocks of a truly earth-shattering orgasm. Roy snorts into her hair, shaking with laughter.

“I’m fairly sure you did,” he replies, kissing her hair affectionately. “What is it they say in Creta? _La petite mort?_ ”

“It was a bit more than _petite_ , Roy,” she says, tilting her head up to see him better. “But your turn can wait,” she sighs, shifting closer to him on the bed. “I need to sleep or I’m actually going to die.”

Roy drags the duvet from the edge of his bed back on top of them and pushes her hair back from her face gently, thumb tracing the edge of her cheekbone. “That would be an inconvenience,” he murmurs, fingers drifting over her shoulder in a steady motion.

Riza breathes deeply, and concentrates on the familiar smell of soap and bergamot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of…research went into this chapter. I beg you, please don’t google what vibrators looked like in the 1910’s. They. Are. Terrifying. Partially for that reason (and also because they have automail way back then) I decided to make the toy a little more…modern and practical for these two lovebirds.
> 
> I know some people would argue that Riza would definitely have her own set of toys, it wasn’t until the late 1910’s that vibrators were sold to the general public en masse, and Riza doesn’t really seem like the kind of girl who needs to go to the doctor for treatment in regards to ‘hysteria’…but I’m happy to hear your thoughts on the topic!
> 
> I know I said I would explain the numbers, but if it’s not obvious by now what they refer to, they will in the next chapter. Or you can just message me and I’ll tell you.
> 
> Part three will be put up when I can remember to write it.


End file.
